The Heart of the Machine
by Nelbertine
Summary: A rail crash on the LA Subway leads to a race against time for Olivia and Peter to prevent a technological catastrophe.  Some P/O, set early in Season Three.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own Fringe or it's characters. Enjoy!

**OLIVIA DUNHAM'S APARTMENT**

Olivia stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom. It was 4 in the morning, or at least it had been the last time she looked at the clock on her nightstand. The lamp next to the clock was on as it had been all night, as it had been ever since she'd got back from Over There. The darkness of that cell had been all the darkness she'd ever be able to stomach, so here she was, lying under her covers in the dead of night, examining in minute detail every inch of her ceiling.

Broyles had signed her off for as long as she needed, once she'd returned, and as the days had drawn into weeks, she'd slowly been able to put her life back together, explaining carefully to Rachel and Ella how the impostor living in her apartment wasn't her. It took them a while to understand, but they had now stopped looking at her with a mix of pity and fear, which had been the hardest thing to bear. Now that they were treating her like an aunt and sister again, it had become easier and everything else had started to get better. Well, nearly everything.

She thought about Walter – He had been overjoyed to see her, putting together the plan to rescue her and send the impostor back to her universe, his tortured mind hiding an intellect that his other universe alternate couldn't match. Seeing the cruelty and malevolence of The Secretary made her appreciate this world's Walter more. Thanks to his actions when she was a child, she was not sure she would ever really trust Walter, but he couldn't hide his tears of joy at seeing her again, nor could she hide hers at seeing him. Astrid was Astrid, and her stoicism was about the only thing that had anchored her in the hours and days immediately after her return. In the weeks afterwards, she and Astrid had become much closer, not least because Walter had told her that Astrid had been the one who had lured her impostor into the trap that sent her back to her world.

She turned over in bed and stared at the clock. 4:12 Am. The cell had screwed up her sleep patterns and the FBI shrink had told her that it might be months before she was sleeping properly again. She sighed and thought about getting up when the phone rang. She picked it up.

"Dunham."

"Agent Dunham." It was Broyles. "Ready to come back to work?"

"God, yes Sir!" She thought she detected a low chuckle on the other end of the line.

"Good. Pack a bag. A train on the Los Angeles subway has derailed in…unusual circumstances. Take Peter and Walter." She paused.

"Of course Sir." There was a long silence. "Is there anything else, Sir?"

"Are you sure you're ready, Olivia?" She rubbed her eyes.

"I was ready two weeks ago, Sir. I was never any good at sitting around. I'm fine." Another silence.

"There's an 8am flight out of Logan. Pick the tickets up at the desk. I'll meet you out there."

She put the phone down and smiled. It had been too long, and the thought of working cases again seemed like exactly what she needed. Only one part of the conversation had wrinkled her brow.

Peter.

**NORTH HOLLYWOOD STATION – LOS ANGELES SUBWAY.**

The scene was one of almost unimaginable damage and destruction. Temporary arc lights were illuminating the remains of North Hollywood Subway Station and the remnants of the train were compressed and crushed into the remains of the station. The air was full of dust and LAPD, NTSB and local FBI officers running about in the semi-darkness. The NTSB and LAPD officers at the top of the station entrance had handed them all a mask, though Walter had refused his with a cheery "No need officer, my lungs are already damaged by the marijuana I regularly smoke". Peter had ushered him passed the policemen with a cheery "He's a real joker this one!" and Astrid had reminded him about the conversation they'd had about thinking before speaking. Watching the mini farce play out as if nothing had happened made Olivia smile, then she felt a prickle behind her eyes as she remembered how close she had come to losing them all. She quickly blinked away the tears before they had time to form as the descended into the dusty, sodium lit gloom.

The flight had been painfully awkward. For once, it hadn't been Walter who had caused the problems, he's slept most of the flight, ipod headphones clamped to his ears. It had been Peter. They'd had one awkward conversation since she'd been back, and neither had been keen to repeat the experience. His had been the first face she'd seen when she came to after she'd returned. He was holding her hand and he'd cried and kissed her when she came to. He'd spent days in the hospital with her, talking aimlessly about Walter, Fringe Division, the things she'd missed out on here in her world while she was away. He'd tried to get her to talk about her ordeal, about what the alternate Walter had done to her, but she'd been unwilling to discuss it.. Not just because the experience was still so painful, but because she knew that if she told him the truth, He'd go back to that other place and make Walter pay. It was bad enough that he'd risked it all by going back to rescue her, but a mission of revenge was pointless and placed their world at risk.

The awkward conversation had come when she'd found out about the Impostor. She hadn't asked Peter how long it took him to work out it wasn't her because she was terrified to hear the answer. On the other side, in his apartment, stood over the desk with the schematics to the infernal weapon alternate Walter had designed, his son a central component, she'd bared her soul to him, she'd told him that he belonged with her. The possibility that he might have thought the impostor was her, that he had held her hand, kissed her, slept with her, told her things that he should have told Olivia was too much for her to comprehend. She had raised it once and Peter had told her not to worry about it, that she was home, safe, with him but he had looked uncomfortable. She had let it drop and yet her mind couldn't censor the images replaying there, of them both. Together. So she did what she always did to protect herself, she pushed him away. Peter had put it down to her state, Post-Traumatic Stress or something, and he'd left it alone, but he had tried to talk to her about it on the flight, and she had put him down as gently as she could and then pretended to sleep for the rest of the flight. She had no idea how long she'd be able to keep up the distance between them, but she felt betrayed and even though she knew it wasn't Peter's fault, she couldn't help herself.

"Good to see you Agent Durham." Broyles pulled Olivia from her self-reflection. She looked at him.

"How did you get here before us?"

"Took an earlier flight. This is Andrew Kidd from NTSB." He introduced her to a short balding man in a cheap brown suit, who shook her hand purposefully.

"I'm Agent Dunham, FBI. This is Walter and Peter Bishop and Astrid Farnsworth. How many died?" They started to walk towards the front of the wreckage.

" Five. It was an early train and this was the last stop. We lost the driver, two passengers and two on the station platform. Five hours later and it would have been catastrophic," They stopped by the front of the train, which had ridden up onto the platform and flipped onto its side, so that the bottom of the train was facing them. "This is why you're here." He pointed to the wheels, or rather the axles where the wheels should have been attached. Every wheel on the front carriage of the train was missing. "We figure the train derailed at the point the wheels were lost. Problem is, we can't find them."

Broyles blinked.

"What do you mean? They're lost in the tunnels somewhere?"

"No. We've searched the tunnels for three hundred yards, there's nothing we can see that is, or was a railway carriage wheel. These things are four feet across and weigh half a tonne each and we can't find a scrap of metal that looks like a wheel or part of a wheel. It's like the damn train floated here."

Olivia pointed her torch at the axle ends where the wheels should have been. "Were they removed? Sheared off further down the line and momentum carried the train this far?"

Walter was stood behind her and staring intently at the ends of the axles running a finger over the metal, pulled it away and sniffed at it enthusiastically.

"I don't believe so Agent Durham. It's smooth, with no evidence of fatigue or deliberate damage. There are no rough edges. It looks like it was weathered off."

"How can that be?" The NTSB Officer looked at Walter. "This train was serviced yesterday. This was its first run of the day, and you're saying the wheels were weathered off between LAX and North Hollywood? This is titanium alloy we're talking about, it would take ten thousand years for these to weather away." They all stared at the train wreckage.

"Ten thousand years of weather damage confined within a half hour train journey – sounds like a Fringe Division case to me." Broyles said with the slightest smile. Olivia looked at him as her phone rang. She snapped it open and listened for a second.

"OK, we'll be there."

"What is it?" Peter looked at her.

"Second crime scene, someone in the Subway Train maintenance Depot found a body. I'll go with Peter." Walter was still staring at the axle.

"I need these transported back to my lab." Olivia and Peter left as Broyles began the usual refereeing job between Walter and the NTSB officer. She snatched a sideways look at Peter, who was smiling his normal 'I'm glad I'm not involved in that conversation' grin. She loved that smile and seeing it on his face, her heart ached.


	2. Chapter 2

**LA SUBWAY MAINTENANCE DEPOT, CENTRAL LOS ANGELES.**

"Just when you think that this job can't get any freakier…"

They stared down at the body at their feet, every inch of skin had been removed, and the corpse was lying in a pool of blood and covered in a grey dust. Peter took an evidence bag from his pocket and scraped some of the grey dust into it with a pencil. "Nothing gets Walter excited more than unidentifiable goo". In spite of herself, and the scene in front of her, she smiled. No-one delivered a one-liner in the face of the grotesque better than Peter Bishop.

The LA County Coroner was kneeling next to the body, going about his business without any interest in their conversation and Olivia crouched down beside him and introduced them both.

"When did he die?" The coroner looked up at Olivia.

"Liver temperature suggests time of death between 10 and 11pm last night."

"Was he skinned?" The coroner shrugged.

"If he was, it was the best skinning job I've ever seen. No tool marks and not a scrap of skin left." Peter butted in.

"Wait, you've seen more than one person skinned? Am I the only one who finds that wildly disturbing?" The Coroner looked up.

"Son, I've been an LA County Coroner for 15 years, there ain't a cause of death I haven't seen. On time, I saw this guy who managed to suffocate on his own…"

"Doctor." Olivia interrupted him and the Coroner smiled an apology. You're saying that every scrap of skin has gone?" The Coroner got off his knees and wrote something on a clipboard.

"Feel free to check. I'll give you Twenty bucks if you can find any." Olivia stepped back, nose wrinkling in disgust at the prospect of checking for skin on the glistening cadaver.

"No thanks. Have you got a cause of death?" The coroner laughed.

"Have you seen the dude? What do you think?"

"No other wounds?"

"None that we've found, I'll know more after the autopsy." Olivia shook her head.

"I'm afraid the body is coming with us." The Coroner shrugged.

"Suit yourself, I've got plenty of work anyway. This is the City of Angels"

"What about ID?" The Coroner shook his head.

"I assume that pile of clothes over there is his." He pointed to a disorganised pile of clothes in the corner of the room. "I couldn't find any personal effects at all. I'd say robbery, but how many muggers do you know who skin their victims alive?" Peter looked horrified.

"Did you say he was skinned alive?" The Coroner nodded.

"I'm afraid so. I checked his free histamine levels. They were through the roof. The poor guy died in agony." All three of them stared at the body sombrely, absorbing this new and disturbing information. The Coroner's beeper went and he snatched it off his belt. "OK, got another one. No rest for the wicked. Where do you want the body transported?"

Peter leaned in and whispered in Olivia's ear.

"Skinned alive. No wonder Walter brews his own La-La land juice. Still, with a skinned guy and a bag of grey goo, you've probably made his week"

She looked at him and marvelled at his ability to screen this sort of stuff out. He caught her glance and smiled warmly at her. She couldn't help herself and smiled back, then she quickly looked away. Not now, Liv, she told herself. Not now.

"Can you have the body and any evidence sent to Harvard please?" The Coroner nodded.

"I hope your guy likes weird."

Peter clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Buddy, you have no idea….".

FRINGE HEADQUARTERS, BOSTON

Broyles walked up to Olivia's desk. She rocked back in her chair, lifted her glasses onto her forehead and rubbed the tiredness from her eyes. Unsuccessfully.

"Agent Dunham, you OK?" She looked up and sat forward at her desk.

"Yes, Redeye flights always do that to me."

"What do we have?" Olivia sighed and punched a few keys on her computer keyboard.

"NTSB is still searching the tunnels around North Hollywood. No sign of the missing wheels but they did find trace amounts of the same grey dust we found on the body at the train depot. They've sent a sample directly to Walter."

"OK. At least it looks like the two events are linked, that's a start. What do we know about the victim?" Olivia punched a few keys and a plain, black and white photo of the victim appeared on-screen.

"This is what he looks like with skin. Henry Robert Franks. Aged 46, resident of Fullerton, unmarried, parents deceased, no priors. He was shift manager at the LA Transit Authority Engineering Depot. He clocked in at 10pm and checked out – permanently - at 10:15." Broyles glared at her.

"Agent Durham?"

"Sorry Sir. His body is at Walter's lab."

"Check his financials anyway. Maybe he was working with someone. What about cameras at the Depot?" Olivia took a swig of cold coffee and grimaced.

"LA Transit Authority is sending all their video camera feeds through to Astrid. We did catch one break though. An employee…" She checked the paperwork on her desk "…A David Sanchez, reported his security card missing this morning. He claims it was lifted from him on the subway home on Friday night. LAPD are questioning him now, though they think his story checks out. The thing is, someone used Sanchez pass key to access the depot at 10pm Sunday night. 15 minutes before Franks died."

Broyles stared at Franks picture on Olivia's computer screen.

"If LA Transit Authority doesn't have that video feed to you by midday, call me." Olivia looked at him.

"Yes Sir."

"Rail crashes of unknown cause sets everyone in Homeland Security on edge. I've been fielding calls all morning from the Secretary of State to the Governor of California. Everyone wants to know if this is a Terrorist act or not. I need to tell them something, and fast." He leaned over to Dunham. "I don't care what it takes, get Bishop moving on this."

"Yes Sir." Broyles paused.

"Why aren't you there?" Olivia looked puzzled.

"Where Sir?"

"Harvard. You used to do this sort of stuff over there before…." He trailed off, leaving the obvious unsaid. The half-truth came to Olivia a little too quickly.

"Walter's on a prog rock kick at the moment. Everything has to be Yes or Genesis or Emerson, Lake and Palmer, and it all has to be at ear-splitting volume. I can't concentrate there." She left the situation with Peter unsaid, though in truth it bothered him more than Walter's suddenly acquired taste for early 70's rock music ever would.

"Fine, but let's speed things up shall we." Olivia slid her glasses back onto her nose and Broyles stalked back to his office to answer the phone yet again.

**HARVARD UNIVERSITY**

The Lab was dominated by one of the train axles in one corner, and the corpse from the depot in the other. Procul Harum was blaring on the record player and Gene munched contentedly on some hay. Astrid was examining the footage that the LA Transit Authority had sent of the video camera footage from the maintenance depot. She'd highlighted the man who used Sanchez card to access the building. He was a good four inches taller than the squat Sanchez, but other than that was an unremarkable 5 foot 10 Caucasian male between 19 and 45 in a dark shirt, dark jeans and an LA Dodgers baseball cap. The video picture, even enhanced had been able to yield a decent image of his face.

"A 5 10, white, Dodgers fan", Peter had said in that sardonic style of his. "That narrows it down to about three quarters of a million people."

Walter was playing with the grey goo Peter had recovered from the Henry Franks body and comparing it to the similar material sent by the NTSB from the tunnel the subway train had passed through before it crashed. Olivia was drinking a cup of coffee, pouring over Franks financials looking for something out-of the ordinary. Peter was stood next to Gene, drinking in the scene. He smiled to himself – the last few months had been rough, and not just for him. Now they were all back in the same place, weird though that place was, he couldn't imagine a life anywhere else, with anyone else. He still thought Walter's actions in taking him from the other side selfish, but his understanding of his real father's intentions as well as the way he manipulated them and deceived him by sending the impostor over with them and leaving Olivia to rot in that cell, well, he had a new appreciation for his Walter, naked midnight snack preparation, vast narcotic consumption and social naivety and all. His eyes settled on Olivia, sat at a desk at the far side of the room. His smile slipped. Olivia, for whom he had returned to this world, who had kissed him in that apartment on the other side and turned his world upside down. Olivia, who had dropped her carefully maintained emotional shield in a desperate bid to get him to come home, and for whom he would readily and unconditionally surrender his life. He looked at her hair, tied up in a tight ponytail and her dark-rimmed reading glasses perched on the end of her nose as a penetrating sorrow washed over his soul. Since her return, she'd been distant with him – initially he put it down to her ordeal in that cell, but as time went on he began to question himself and the thoughts behind her actions in that apartment. Could she not divorce him from his father and what he did to her in that God-awful cell? Did she mean it when she told him that he belonged with her, or had it been a ruse to get him back for the sake of Fringe Division? He'd spent a good deal of his life avoiding putting down roots for anyone and now that he wanted to, the one person who had convinced him to do so could barely face being in the same room as him. He found it almost impossible to cope with, and whiskey only provided temporary solace.

They were all lulled from their various occupations by a strangled shout from Walter, who disappeared into the kitchen. They all congregated around where he was working and Astrid turned off the record player. Olivia shot Peter a tired smile, that didn't really look that authentic. Walter re-appeared with something in his hand and a broad smile on his face.

"I think I now understand why only the metal on the railway carriage wheels was eroded." Olivia raised an eyebrow.

"What was it?"

Peter leaned into her.

"This is demonstration time," he whispered, "Best part of his day, except when he's been at the pharmaceuticals. Humour him." Olivia smiled, though Walter continued, oblivious of their conversation.

"I will demonstrate using Mr Lemon here." He placed a lemon, with stuck on googly eyes and pipe cleaner arms and legs behind a plastic shield.

"What about Mr Papaya?" Astrid was staring at the yellow fruit.

"My Dear, we will not experiment on Mr Papaya again. Why is that?" Astrid rolled her eyes.

"Because he is the friendliest of fruits" she intoned, just as Walter had trained her.

"Quite right. Mr Lemon, on the other hand, is the bitterest of all fruit. See?" He lifted the lemon off its stand and waved it in their direction, and they noted that Walter had drawn scowling eyebrows and a thin, down turned mouth on its skin that made it look thoroughly miserable. Olivia stifled a giggle and Peter rubbed his eyes. Walter put the test subject back on its stand.

"We will not mourn the passing of Mr Lemon. Agent Farnsworth, would you hand me that syringe please?" Astrid passed Walter the syringe he'd set down when Mr Lemon had made his entrance. He walked over to the lemon and emptied the liquid contents of the hypodermic over the lemon and stepped back. "Now, observe, Agent Dunham."

Initially, nothing happened, but after a couple of seconds the skin of the lemon began to dissolve in a wet, mush of pulp, until the skin was completely gone, reduced to a puddle of liquid, in which two eyes and a collection of pipe cleaners floated forlornly. A sharp, citrus smell filled the lab.

"Anyone else really feel like a gin and tonic about now?" Peter walked towards the remains of Mr Lemon. "Is that acid?"

"LSD? No Son, I can assure you that you are not hallucinating this." Peter fixed Walter with a tired stare.

"No, I mean Hydrochloric acid." Walter walked up to the mushy fruit with a glint in his eye, took his glove off and before Peter could stop him, ran his finger through the liquid and tasted it. "Walter! Come on!" Walter smiled.

"Anyone fancy pancakes? I feel like making some up right now." Olivia walked over to the Bishops.

"Walter, if it isn't some kind of Acid, what is it?"

Walter stripped off his other glove.

"Had the metal on the wheels been eroded by acid, there would have been erosion of other parts of the axle and bodywork of the train carriage, but Agent Farnsworth's examination of the axle has shown that there was none. It was almost as if the wheel areas were specifically targeted. You can't do that with acid, but there is something else that can be programmed to attack a single specific substance, or in this case titanium alloy."

"What?"

"Nanites".

Olivia looked confused. As normal in circumstances like these, she turned to Peter.

"Nanites are tiny machines – microscopic machines. Very simple ones are already in use in things like micro surgery, cleaning out arteries. They only work in controlled environments and they perform one simple task before going inert."

"OK, but how do you use a medical tool to cause a train derailment?" Olivia looked at Peter who shrugged.

"They are simple machines – if you know them well enough, it's possible that you could re-programme them to change their task – stop dissolving cholesterol, and start dissolving titanium alloy."

"Or Mr Lemon's peel!" Walter added enthusiastically.

"Or Mr Lemon's peel." Peter conceded.

"So who has these nanites?" Walter looked at her.

"These Nanites? These were synthesised from the grey goo covering Mr Franks body. His skin was also removed by nanites. It's how he died. They are several generations more advanced than those in use at the moment." He was collecting up the pulp of Mr Lemon, mind already in the kitchen. "I don't know who might be responsible for them". He was pensive for a second, lost in his own thoughts, before his face brightened. "Astrid? Cupcakes I think!" Astrid started towards the kitchen.

"Sure Walter, though we talked about your need to eat the aftermath of your experiments…..." Astrid and Walter sauntered off to the kitchen, leaving Peter and Olivia alone in the lab. Peter looked at her.

"Olivia, I…." She cut him off without looking back at him. Everything was still too raw.

"If these are nanites, where would you go about getting hold of them?"

"Start with surgical supply warehouses, though as Walter said, these are much more advanced than present nanite designs." He paused for a second. "We really need to talk." He looked at her with poorly disguised desperation. "Please."

Olivia looked away from the sticky fluid that was all that was left to mark the passing of Mr Lemon and up into Peter's eyes. They were pleading, and she hated doing this to him. She hated doing it to herself, but she knew that she needed this case to anchor her back in this world. She needed her job, she needed Walter and Astrid and their experiments. She needed Broyles and the structure of the FBI. She needed Rachel and Ella. Her time in the cell over there had been like floating on a sunless sea, dark and featureless, with nothing to navigate by. She had survived it by clinging on to the memory of his face, the sound of his laughter, the touch of his hand. Now she was back, she felt she needed to stabilise herself before she could start to examine how much her feelings for Peter had changed. Every time she thought of him, she thought of him with her and it killed her to acknowledge the possibility that the impostor, that bitch, had taken something so clearly meant for her. She also knew that wasn't fair on Peter, but she couldn't help herself.

"I know, and we will talk, Peter. Let me just get through this case and we'll talk. I promise." Even to her own ears, her voice sounded weary and unsympathetic. He looked confused, hurt, but he mustered a small, if unconvincing smile. The sight of it, and his attempts to be strong for her, no matter how unsuccessfully broke her heart.

"Sure. When we're done." He turned round so she couldn't see his face, but his voice sounded like he didn't believe her any more. "Hey, Walter!" Walter stuck his head round the kitchen door. "What's so special about these nanites?"

"They work in hostile environments, and they were programmed to work after a set, specific dormant period. They were also straightforward to re-programme, hence the demise of Mr Lemon. I re-programmed the nanites in the goo on Mr Franks in ten minutes." He disappeared to continue his baking. Olivia looked at Peter, waiting for the necessary explanation.

"Where would you go if you thought that someone had taken something that was essentially a harmless surgical tool and weaponised it? Programmed them to eat Titanium alloy, instead of breaking up blood clots in the body, say." Olivia scowled and took her cell phone out of her pocket and dialled a number.

"Hello, it's Olivia Dunham, and I need to talk to Nina Sharp, as soon as possible."…..


	3. Chapter 3

**DISUSED WAREHOUSE, PIERS PARK, BOSTON**

The man sat in the semi-darkness. The warehouse had been boarded up for years and sat squat against the port authority fences in the old North Harbour district, unkempt and forgotten. It was cavernous and dusty inside the vast building, littered with rusty machinery, piles of rotting paper and thick with the atmosphere of abandonment. All, that was, except a small corner. In that corner sat the man. The chair he sat in was hard and plastic. Behind him was a bed, unmade and as tired as the building it sat in. There were two ancient and battered trunks by the bed and around the table behind which the man sat was strewn empty take-out cartons and soft drink cans. He could have been one of the hundreds of vagrants that lived in and around the maze of disused building in the North Harbour district.

Except he wasn't.

His suit was immaculate, as was his hair and his general appearance. Unlike the other residents of North Harbour, he chose to be here, using the areas bad reputation and the homeless as a shield to avoid prying eyes.

Next to his bed was a second desk and on it was a laptop computer. Leads from the computer led to a black box, about the size of a cereal packet. From the box came another set of leads which led to two barrels, both roughly the size of beer kegs. They were spotlessly clean and made of stainless steel, with a dinner plate porthole of plastic set into the side. Within the kegs, swirling and moving around the barrel was a liquid that glowed faintly blue. It spilled light over the immediate surroundings and every minute or so, the liquid inside would abruptly change direction and swirl around to form new and endlessly changing patterns, as if the barrels themselves contained a shoal of invisible, light-emitting fish. It was quite beautiful, and the man sat behind his desk would sometimes watch the patterns that formed and reformed in the barrels for hours.

The man slowly got up and lifted a bag which had sat by his feet onto the table in front of him. It was a flight bag and still carried the tags from that morning's return flight from LAX to Logan international on it. Inside the bag was a can of shaving cream. He took it out and unscrewed the top, taking out a tiny metal flask from inside the fake can. He set it down on the table next to a dozen similar cans. He then took out a book. Inside the hollowed out pages was a plastic flask, different in design from the first, more like a hip flask. He set that down on the table too. Carefully, he lifted a car battery onto the desk, and connected a couple of cables to the connectors. He then applied the live ends of the cables to both flasks, watching the arc of electricity pass across each flask twice, before disconnecting the cables and replacing the battery on the floor. He then took out a pre-paid cell phone, dialled a number. He waited for a second and spoke in a low, controlled voice.

"The field test was a success." He then snapped the phone shut. Satisfied that his work was done, he took off his jacket, took out his copy of that morning's LA Times, and by the light of the liquid shifting and pulsating in the barrels next to him, read of the disaster in North Hollywood subway station with a sense of satisfaction that came from a job well done.

MASSIVE DYNAMIC HEADQUARTERS, NEW YORK.

Olivia was sat in Nina Sharp's office on the top floor of the Massive Dynamic building, coffee cup in hand, being scrutinised by Nina. After a few uncomfortable seconds she sat back down behind her desk and smiled.

"I'm sorry Dear, but with all that's happened, you can't blame me for making sure it really is you, can you?" Olivia frowned, but didn't answer. Any reference to her alternate drew fury in her, but that wasn't going to help this conversation any, so she stashed it deep beneath the surface of her calm exterior. If Nina had been trying to nudge a reaction, she didn't get one. "If it's any consolation, you do look better as a blonde." Nina leaned over her desk conspiratorially. "I thought the redhead looked a bit slutty, if I'm being honest." In spite of herself, Olivia smiled. "That's better. How are you Olivia?"

"Getting better." She found the lie came easily in this office.

"Good, good." Nina got down to business. "So, what can I do for you today?" Olivia set her coffee cup down.

"Nina, what do you know about nanites?"

"Massive Dynamic are the largest supplier of surgical nanite technology in the United States." Sharp slipped easily into the sales pitch. "Our nanites have been used in over a thousand surgical procedures and saved hundreds of lives." Olivia waited for her to finish.

"OK, but what are they exactly?"

"Microscopic machines. They're like mechanical viruses. You programme then to fix a detached retina, or a broken eardrum, inject them into the patient and they go to work. After they've done, they go inert and the body treats them like a foreign virus and the antibody system wipes them out. They're quite ingenious really."

Olivia studied Nina carefully, filtering out the sales pitch.

"Can they be programmed to do other things besides surgical procedures?"

Nina looked at Olivia carefully.

"I suppose, though they only work inside the environments they are designed for. Why do you want to know?"

"It's a case I'm working on." Olivia's natural distrust of Nina prevented her from giving the Massive Dynamic CEO any extra information, but she need to know more. "So you couldn't design a nanite that, say worked in the open air, or a nanite that attacked metal rather than a brain injury?"

Nina didn't respond immediately, however she picked up the telephone.

"I need to speak with Kurt at San Bernardino." She paused for a second waiting to be connected. "Kurt, tomorrow, you will be receiving a visit from an Agent Olivia Dunham of the Department of Homeland Security. I want you to extend her every courtesy and provide her with whatever she asks, OK?" She put the phone down. "Our nanites are grown at our medical research laboratory in San Bernardino, California. We have been working on an experimental nanite prototype that works external to the body, in the wider environment."

Olivia sat forward. "Is Massive Dynamics the only company working on this sort of nanite technology?" Nina laughed out loud.

"Oh good God no, Olivia. Nanites are this century's electricity. They'll revolutionise engineering, weapons design, electronics, the whole world in the same way electricity did." Nina sat back in her chair. "There are a dozen companies working on this technology. Nextel Inc, Albacore, JXI Pharmaceuticals….but I can't get you into their labs, can I?"

Olivia stood up.

"Thank you Nina." The older woman shrugged.

"Don't mention it. It's good to see you, Olivia."

Olivia went to leave, but before she got to the door, she stopped and turned round. She thought about whether what she was about to do was a good idea. Her history with Nina Sharp was…complicated but whilst they circled each other like sharks and Olivia was certain that Nina had lied to her, many times, she felt that this made her the perfect person to ask the question of, the one that she'd been so anxious to ask since she'd got back.

"What was she like?"

"Who?" Nina smiled at her, not making it any easier

Olivia spat the words out.

"You know who. How close was she to me? How difficult was it to tell she wasn't me?"

Nina regarded Olivia carefully, and Olivia began to regret asking the question at all. She only did so because she felt that Nina was likely to be the only person to give her a straight answer.

"I'm not really the best person to ask, am I? How well do you think I know you?"

"I'm sorry, never mind." It had been a stupid idea to ask. Olivia turned for the door and opened it.

"She was brittle." Nina's voice was lower, more hesitant, as if Olivia's question had affected her. Perhaps the obvious discomfort in evidence all over Olivia's face touched a nerve somewhere. "She made an effort, I'll give her that, but she was too hard. You can't really fake empathy, Olivia. I'm not sure she fooled anyone really, except perhaps herself."

Olivia listened silently, her features fragile like spun glass. She didn't really know if she liked the answer or not.

"Thank you."

**MASSIVE DYNAMIC MEDICAL LABORATORY, SAN BERNARDINO, CALIFORNIA**

"I was in San Bernardino once." Walter, Olivia, Peter and Astrid were walking along what appeared to be the longest corridor on the planet, lead by two Massive Dynamic security guards.

"Really Walter, it's not like going to the moon. It's San Bernardino." Peter was tired, and he and Olivia had hardly spoken five words on the flight over. Even Walter had picked up on it, making several wildly inappropriate comments, comments that previously would have drawn wry smiles. Now, they drew uncomfortable silence.

"Yes, it was a science symposium at the Sun Inn Conference Centre. 1977 I believe, the summer of Disco!" He threw a couple of John Travolta moves.

"Walter," Astrid ducked a flailing arm. "I'll give you twenty dollars if you never do that again."

"Excellent."

They stopped in front of a set of huge steel doors marked with the Massive Dynamic logo under which was written Micro Surgery Development Suite. One of the guards punched a pass code into a box by the door, and it swung open. They were met by a bearded man in a white Lab coat.

"Agent Dunham?"

"That's right. This is Astrid Farnsworth FBI, and Peter and Walter Bishop."

"I'm Kurt Saddlewell, I'm head of Micro-surgery research with Massive Dynamic. You'd like to know about our experimental nanite research. Follow me."

They walked through a set of labs, brilliant white and consisting of glass and steel, past white coated scientists busying themselves around equipment that Olivia found disorientating, but which Walter was staring in awe at. Eventually the room opened out into a huge semi-circular amphitheatre and along the back, curbing wall were six huge tanks, each the size of a greyhound bus. Each had a circular porthole six feet high in the side, and each was filled with a swirling, ceaselessly moving glowing liquid. Three of the tanks had green liquid in, three red. Walter walked up to the nearest tank and placed his face against the plastic.

"It's marvellous Peter, come and look. It's like looking into the best trip you'll ever have." Peter smiled at Dr Saddlewell.

"He's a bit weird before he's had his breakfast."

"These are nanites?" Olivia stared at the tanks, trying to equate the swirling liquid with the grey dust they found on the rail tracks and all over Franks body.

"No my Dear….Well yes, sort of." Walter didn't give Saddlewell time to answer.

"Great Walter, very helpful." Peter drew a disapproving glance from Astrid. Walter appeared oblivious.

"Step closer Agent Dunham." Walter was still staring into the shifting liquid, his face tinged green from the faint glow it was giving off. As Olivia moved next to him, she could see the wonder in his eyes. Simple and child-like. She smiled just a little. It was this side of Walter she had grown to like. It was this side of his personality that so clearly differentiated him from the calculation and cruelty of his alternate. She stared into the liquid.

"I must admit, it is a little freaky."

"Super-freaky." Walter added. "What you're looking at is billions and billions of nanites, moving around in an electrolyte solution. They are just reproducing themselves in this liquid, until they are programmed. Dr…" He leaned over to Olivia. "What's his name again?"

"Saddlewell."

"You!" He beckoned to Saddlewell, who walked over. "What are these for?"

"The nanites in the red vats are for micro-surgery. We raise them in artificial blood-plasma and they're made from copper molecules."

"Ah yes" Walter intoned. "There's copper in blood, it buys them more time before they are attacked by the immune system." Saddlewell nodded.

"The green vats contain our experimental nanites. They are grown in Saline."

"Grown? I thought they were machines?" Olivia looked puzzled.

"They are." Saddlewell continued as Walter puzzled over what had been said earlier. "It's a figure of speech. They behave very much like viruses. Some of the leading researchers in nanite technology are actually virologists. I myself graduated…"

"YOU FOOL!" Walter exploded.

"Walter!" It was Astrid who started to move forward. Walter ignored her.

"You are a small-minded imbecile." Walter continued. "You have no idea of the forces you are toying with. No idea!"

"Walter" It was Olivia. She placed a calming hand on his arm and it worked. He looked at her and the fury in his face calmed down just a little. "What is it?"

"This ignoramus is growing nanite technology in a neutral medium." Olivia looked over at Peter.

"What Walter is trying to say is that there's a reason that nanites are designed only to be used in a certain, very limited set of environments. Nanites can only do one thing. Reproduce themselves. As Walter said, they're a mechanical virus. If you can programme them to reproduce themselves using the material in a blood clot, they break up the blood clot. It's how they work. The thing is that the human body has a very effective antibody system, so the human body starts to attack them the second they are injected. Then it's a race. Nanites are designed to reproduce just fast enough to break up the blood clot, using the material to create new nanites, before they are destroyed. When the blood clot is gone, they have no more material to reproduce with, and the body's immune system wins the race."

Olivia looked even more confused than when he started.

"Look. The human body has a built in anti-nanite system. Imagine what would happen if you introduced them into something that didn't. They'd only stop when they ran out of whatever substance it was that they were using to reproduce themselves. Saline is a neutral medium – it's possible to grow nanites in saline that will reproduce themselves in almost any environment, using almost any material."

"Yes." It was Saddlewell. "Think of the applications. You could use them to clear blocked oil pipes, clean the engine of your car, consume the carbon monoxide in the engine – zero emission vehicles. It could revolutionise the world."

"Grey Goo!" Walter stared at Saddlewell, who dismissed him.

"That's science fiction nonsense."

"Grey what?" Olivia looked from Walter to Peter. Peter shrugged.

"I'll explain later."

Olivia's mind was already working.

"Walter, if you wanted to create nanites that reproduced using titanium alloy, what would you need?" The Scientist mulled over the question for a second.

"You'd need to raise the first nanites in a medium containing molten titanium alloy."

Olivia smiled.

"Dr Saddlewell, thank you for your time. We're leaving."

"We are?" Walter reluctantly dragged himself away from the vats.

"Yes Walter. We have work to do."


	4. Chapter 4

**THE HAPPY INN, SAN BERNARDINO AIRPORT, CALIFORNIA.**

"Yes Sir, I think we might have a solid lead." Olivia was on the phone to Broyles. In their hotel rooms, Astrid was on her laptop cross-checking companies involved in nanite production with high-end metallurgical foundries. Walter was watching old episodes of The Wacky Races on the TV, eating a pudding. Peter was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

"No Sir, We'll be out here another day, almost all of the nanite producers in the US are based in and around Silicone Valley. If we get it a hit, it'll probably be here. Yes Sir." She snapped the phone shut. "Broyles is putting the squeeze on Massive Dynamic to get them to share some of the 'information' on other nanite producers." She walked over to Astrid. "Any luck?"

"Not yet. This will take time. Do you know how many titanium alloy producers there are in California?"

"Nope." Olivia replied. "That's why I have you." She shot a tired smile at Astrid, who rolled her eyes and went back to work.

"This programme is preposterous." Walter exclaimed his dismay between mouthfuls of pudding. "One vehicle appears to be constructed entirely from rock and is driven by Neanderthals, another appears to have a beaver as a navigator." He took another mouthful of pudding. "Quite preposterous. I know from my time at Harvard that beavers are atrocious at navigation of any kind, and as for the notion of driving Neanderthals…" Peter abruptly got up and sighed deeply.

"If anyone needs me I'll be in the bar." He picked up his jacket and left.

"What's gotten into him?" Astrid was staring at the door as it slammed shut. "He's been miserable this whole trip."

Walter took his eyes off the TV and looked Olivia in the eye. His face was troubled and he looked upset.

"Peter's been troubled for longer than that."

Olivia knew that the time had come to bring things to a head. It had to be now. The longer it festered, the less likely it was that either of them could fix it. In the weeks and months before her trip to the alternative universe, she had come to take it for granted that Peter's nomadic days were over. He had found a purpose and being a good man, he had realised that his work with Fringe division had provided him with a higher calling. He had rebuilt bridges with his father that, whilst still rocky after the revelations about his true origin were now strong enough to survive what two years earlier would have been a fatal blow. Now she felt that he could walk away at any moment. The excitement, the knowledge of the good he was doing, none of it would matter if it was too painful for him to stay. It had to be now.

"Astrid, can you watch Walter for a while?"

"Sure."

Olivia snatched up her jacket and left.

**THE HAPPY INN BAR AND GRILL, SAN BERNARDINO, CALIFORNIA**

Olivia walked into the Hotel bar. It was almost empty. The large bay windows on one side of the place looked out over the freeway and the lights of San Bernardino twinkled away through the darkness outside. The bar was pretty much silent except for the gentle splatter of rain on the window. She saw him immediately. He was sat in a booth at the far end of the bar, his back turned to her, flicking playing cards randomly onto the table in front of him, stopping occasionally to sip from one of the three shot glasses in front of him. She walked to the bar.

"Double shot of bourbon and a beer." The barman got her drinks and she looked around the place. There was an older guy near the bar engrossed in a book. Another guy was sitting at a table near the window, staring out into the night. Absently, she pulled the band from her hair and shook it out. Then, downing the whiskey in two long, sour gulps, took her beer and walked over to Peter's table.

"Can I sit down?"

He looked so incredibly tired and lonely. For someone who, when she first met him was so guarded with his emotional tells, it was extraordinary how openly his dismay was written across his face. She felt something inside her chest lurch. Peter looked up at her but didn't say anything, motioning at the chair on the opposite side of the table to him. Olivia sat down.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing." He took a long slug of whiskey and set the glass down carefully, savouring the fire as the liquid slipped down his throat. "I had to get a little Walter-free time." Olivia looked into his eyes, holding her gaze steady.

"No Peter, what are you _doing_?"

He paused for a second. Lifted his glass again and was going to drink when he abruptly put it back down.

"Look, Olivia, I can't begin to imagine what it must have been like for you, over there. I've tried. I know what my real father is capable of, so God alone knows what he did to you. I do know, however that whatever it was, it can't be helped by you bottling it up." He did take a swig from his glass. For strength, Olivia guessed. He continued. "I'm your friend. I don't know, I thought I might be more than that, but since you've been back, you've hardly spoken to me." His eyes betrayed his sorrow. "I thought you could talk to me about anything."

Olivia flashed with anger. How had this suddenly become about her? Where did he get the right to turn this around on her? How could he possibly know what she went through, and what gave him the right to feel betrayed just because she couldn't even bring herself to think about those days and days in that cell, never mind talk about it.

"Did you sleep with her?" The question surprised even her. It thoroughly shocked Peter.

"What?" It was Olivia's turn to drink for courage.

"I asked you this question once, in the hospital. Do you remember what you said to me? You said that I was safe, and back with you and Walter where I belonged. You didn't answer my question then, so answer it now."

Peter looked aghast.

"So this is why you've been avoiding me, treating me like a leper? This is why you can't stand to be in my company?"

"Answer the question Peter." He was silent for too long. Olivia got up out of the chair. "I guess that's my answer then". She couldn't help herself. Tears welled up in her eyes and she hated herself for appearing so weak almost as much as she hated herself for allowing herself to be so easily betrayed again. She shot Peter a last glance, filled with pain and anger and started to walk towards the exit.

"No."

She stopped and slowly turned back to look at him. He was staring at her.

"What?"

"I didn't sleep with her. I didn't kiss her, I didn't do anything." She walked back to the table and sat down slowly.

"Then why didn't you say so in the hospital?" Olivia was confused. Peter fixed her with eyes that looked defeated.

"Why? Because I couldn't believe that your first question to me was whether I slept with her. Do you know how often I've looked into your eyes? How much I've noticed about you?" He took a pull on his drink, figuring that he was past the point of no return. "I've seen your bravery, your tenderness, your honesty, your patience, your tenacity. I know you better than you know yourself Olivia. Have I ever done anything to you, ever, that warrants that kind of accusation." He looked at the surface of the table, not wanting to meet her eyes.

"But how could you tell it wasn't me?" Olivia's voice was cracked and husky and even without looking up, Peter knew she was crying.

"Because I looked into her eyes and I didn't see you there." Still he studied the table. "Do you remember what you said to me, over there?"

"Of course I do."

"If I belong with you, Liv, then why have you spent so long pushing me away? Did you mean it? Did you mean what you said? Do we belong together?"

It was silent for too long. Peter continued to stare at the wood in front of him, not daring to look up.

"I meant it, Peter." She ran a hand under his chin and her touch was electric. She gently eased his head up so he looked into her eyes, tears running freely down her cheeks. "I wouldn't lie to you about that. You know that." He closed his hand around hers and clutched it tight.

"So then why have you been pushing me away?"

"Because every time I looked at you, I pictured you with her!" The dam broke and Olivia released a single huge sob, her mouth trembled so hard she could barely get the words out and her chest heaved at the truth of it. "Every time I saw your face, it was all I could think about. I couldn't deal with it, it's too much on top of everything else. I couldn't cope with feeling like a lovesick teenager, I couldn't face being betrayed again after John but most of all, I couldn't stand knowing that the things you were supposed to say to me, the words you were supposed to share with me and only me, you said to her first." She stared at Peter with undisguised torment. "I just couldn't bare it. Working with you these last few days has been the hardest thing I've ever had to do."

Peter held her hand for a while as the worst of it passed, and when she'd finished, he pushed one of his glasses in her direction and she took a good gulp. They looked at each other across the table, the silence only punctured by the rain hammering on the window next to them. Finally Peter broke the silence.

"It was me who told Broyles that she was an impostor. I knew the second I looked into her eyes. I knew it wasn't you. Olivia, I couldn't have kissed that woman with a gun to my head. I came back here for you. This stuff we do, the danger we put ourselves in every day, I do it for you. The time you were over there and we had no idea where you were and what they were doing to you, I was literally in mortal terror for you. My one waking thought, my single and sole thought the whole time you were away was how I could bring you back. Not for Walter, not for Fringe Division, or Rachel and Ella, not for the survival of this universe, but for me, only for me." He looked at her hands, tightly wrapped into his own. "How selfish is that? And you thought I'd left that side of me behind!" It was a pretty poor joke, but it got a smile, perhaps the first genuine smile he'd got from her since she'd returned. He studied her face carefully with eyes as sorrowful as her own. She was achingly, painfully beautiful.

They were silent for a little while, neither of them wanting or daring to say anything else. It was Peter who mustered up the courage first.

"So what now?" She looked at him and he saw that old spark of determination and warmth behind her eyes again for the first time since her return, and it made him feel alive again.

"We'll see." She said. "Let's get this case sorted, and then we'll see." Peter had one more question to ask before they stood up to leave.

"You do believe me, don't you?" Olivia smiled at him, her face was warm, her eyes relieved, the burden lifted.

"Of course I do."

They were walking back to Peter and Walter's room through the dark and wet parking lot, dodging under the eaves of the cabins surrounding the lot to avoid the rain when Olivia stopped and grabbed Peter's arm.

"What is it Liv?" She looked at him, eyes brilliant in the semi-darkness.

"Peter, would you have left again?" He returned her gaze with a kindness that had been absent the past few days.

"Even if we hadn't been able to sort this out?" She nodded. He smiled. "No, Olivia. I would have stayed. Not just for Walter, not just because what we're doing is worth staying for, but because if there was a chance, a one in a million chance that you might have changed your mind, I'd have stayed and played those odds." She moved close enough to him so that he could feel her breath on his lips. His voice was hardly above a whisper. "I'm not going anywhere without you". Her hair was wet and her eyes alive and she leaned in and kissed him – a gentle, long, lingering kiss. He ran his finger along her jaw and up to her ear and she pulled her hands through his wet hair as they kissed, the world around them melting away as they realised that they had finally found each other. When they finished, they rested their foreheads together and closed their eyes, the atmosphere between them thick with longing and relief. They didn't move, but Olivia whispered to him, so quietly that he felt it more than heard it.

"I can't do this without you."

Peter pulled his head back and gently lifted her head up so she was looking into his eyes.

"You won't ever have to."

**THE HAPPY INN, SAN BERNARDINO AIRPORT, CALIFORNIA.**

When they entered the room, it was clear to Astrid that the atmosphere between them had changed completely. She had closed the laptop and was watching some late night TV. Walter was asleep in the other room. She gesticulated in his direction.

"He wanted to stay awake and wait for you, but he's had a busy day." Olivia took a towel from the bathroom and started to dry her hair. Peter started to make himself a coffee.

"Yeah", he began, "three hours of Wacky races will do that to you." Olivia walked in and took a peak over Astrid's shoulders.

"Did you find anything." The junior agent looked between the two of them and cracked the smallest of smiles.

"Apparently so." Olivia rolled her eyes.

"About the case, wise-ass." Astrid pulled her notebook out.

"I couldn't find a company who made nanites that also had foundry facilities, but I did find out that JXI Pharmaceuticals were bought out by the Rigsby-Halliwell Group last year. One of the other companies that Rigsby-Halliwell own is called Trentwell Precision Metallurgy. Guess what? Both the main JXI and Trentwell manufacturing plants are located in the same business complex in Silicone Valley."

Peter took a swig of his coffee.

"That's got to be the best place to start." Olivia picked up her cell phone.

"I'll get Broyles working on the subpoena. We should get some sleep, I don't fancy tackling dozens of corporate lawyers on four hours shut-eye."

"That's not all." Astrid had saved the best until last. "Trentwell Precision Metallurgy's stock price went through the roof three years ago. Want to guess why?" Peter and Olivia shrugged their shoulders simultaneously. Astrid smiled. "They were awarded the contract to provide precision metal parts for the trains running on the LA Subway, including the wheels."

"OK." Olivia and Astrid got up to leave. "It looks like we're heading for San Jose tomorrow. Good work, Astrid." Astrid walked over to Peter.

"Try to be nice to Walter, Peter. He's been worried about you." She looked from him to Olivia. "He's been worried about you both. He's got some crazy idea you might be leaving again, Peter. I told him he was being paranoid. He is being paranoid, isn't he?" There was a hint of desperation in her voice. Peter smiled at her, and turned and looked over at Olivia.

"I'm not going anywhere Astrid." Olivia smiled shyly.

"Good." Astrid opened the door. "You might want to tell him that. Goodnight, Peter."

"'Night Astrid." Once Astrid was through the door, Olivia walked over to Peter, leaned over and kissed him gently.

"Goodnight Peter" she whispered, mouth millimetres from him.

"Goodnight Olivia" he mumbled, eyes fixed on her lips. Then she was gone, door closing behind her. Peter stretched himself out on the couch, coffee mug resting on his chest and, for what seemed like the first time since Walter had made his confession to Peter in that Hospital room, the broadest, most open smile spread across his face.

Astrid and Olivia were in bed in the adjacent room. It was dark and the only sound they could hear from their respective beds was the sound of the rain beating on the roof and the distant hum of overnight traffic on the freeway. Astrid was drifting off when Olivia spoke in a low voice.

"Do you mind if I put the light on?"

"Of course not." Olivia fumbled round and switched the bedside lamp on. Astrid sat up in bed. "Are you OK?"

Although her voice was tense, Astrid heard that it wasn't as brittle as it had been earlier in the day. Olivia sat up too.

"Yeah, I'm feeling better. I guess that I've still got some recovering to do. Since I got back, I've had a problem with the dark."

Astrid got out of bed. She was wearing a long University of Pittsburgh T-shirt and she trotted off to the bathroom to get a glass of water. Olivia fumbled her glasses on as Astrid got back into bed. There was a long silence. It was broken by Astrid.

"Olivia, what did they do to you?" Olivia sighed.

"It doesn't matter. I'm home now."

"It matters if you can't sleep in the dark." There was a pause. "I can't stand things the way they've been. I can't stand the fact that they hurt you. I can't stand watching you and Peter fight." Olivia was taken aback. She and Astrid had become fairly close, but she hadn't really considered the implications of her incarceration on anyone but Peter. She felt a bit guilty.

"Astrid, I'm fine. My dark-thing, it'll wear off and Peter and me…..we're good now. We sorted some things out tonight."

"Good." Astrid took out a book. "You know Walter's like one of those dogs that freak out just before an Earthquake, except with him it's about emotional upheaval. He's been almost impossible these last couple of weeks. When he freaks out, it freaks me out." Olivia sat up in bed and took a sip of the water Astrid brought for her.

"You know, Astrid. I don't tell you enough how important a part of this thing you are. How you deal with Walter, how you do the legwork for us. Almost anyone else who has seen what you've seen would have fled in terror about two weeks in, yet you're the most stoic and grounded of all of us." Astrid looked across at Olivia, eyes glistening.

"You're welcome, Olivia. I missed you."

"I missed you too."

There was silence again for quite a while. Olivia took her glasses of and relaxed, the lines edged on her features over the previous weeks starting to relax. Astrid put her book down.

"You know, if you need something to help you sleep, I could creep next door and go through Walter's bag…." Olivia laughed.

"You know Homeland Security do mandatory drug testing, don't you? Are you trying to get me fired?" Astrid laughed.

"Hey, I'm just saying, the offers there if you want it." Olivia didn't hear the end of the sentence as she'd already drifted off into her first nightmare-free slumber since arriving back.


	5. Chapter 5

**THE OFFICES OF RIGSBY-HALLIWELL INC, SAN JOSE, CALIFORNIA**

They met with agents from the San Francisco field office of the FBI, who delivered the Subpoena Broyles had successfully got signed off by a San Francisco circuit judge at 4am that morning. As Olivia had expected, they were met by the CEO of Rigsby-Halliwell, their head of artificial surgery products and eight corporate lawyers all wearing suits that cost more than the SUV they'd driven up from San Bernardino in. Walter was waiting in the car whilst Olivia and the deputy senior agent from the San Francisco field office, Lori Wells.

"Agent Dunham, I hope you know what you're doing. Rigsby-Halliwell's lawyers have fins and follow fishing boats, if you catch my drift. They swim in pretty competitive waters." Olivia shrugged.

"I'll tell you if I know what I'm doing when I'm inside." She looked over at Rigsby-Halliwell's CEO. "What's his story?"

"Jack Young, he's been CEO of RHG for ten years. He's a tough son-of-a-bitch. We serve four or five of these every year, they're pretty relaxed about federal patent laws and little ever comes of it." Olivia laughed mirthlessly.

"If your direct competition is Massive Dynamic, I doubt you're going to survive long if you're not a tough bastard." Lori slapped her on the shoulder.

"Well, you're about to find out how tough. Good luck." Lori left as Jack Young walked over.

"You must be Agent Dunham." Olivia held out her hand. Young ignored it. "Miss Dunham, the items you are permitted to remove are all located in our foundry and our micro – surgery division. You will be escorted there by our security, who will catalogue what you will take. You will then leave. You will not be permitted to enter any other part of the complex, you will not talk to any members of staff and when every item on the list is accounted for, you'll be escorted out. Is that clear?" Olivia stepped forward – in heels she was a good inch taller than him and looked down at the sand-haired CEO.

"Mr Young, I'll take what's on this subpoena from where I want. If it takes me twelve hours to do it, I'll take twelve hours. If any of your goons try to stop me, or I think they're interfering in any way, I'll have them arrested. Then I'll come for you. Is _that_ clear?" They stared at each other for a second and then Young peeled away gesticulating to a gorilla-sized security officer who walked over.

"Mr Radley, provide Miss Dunham with the items on her subpoena, and those items only." He nodded.

"OK People," Olivia shouted at the assembled FBI agents. "You have a list of the required items – collect them and provide them to Peter here…" Peter waved a hand jovially and leaned over to Astrid.

"I love being my Father's secretary…" Astrid looked up balefully.

"Yeah, that's much worse than being his nurse and babysitter."

Olivia either ignored them or couldn't hear them.

"Let's go." Olivia looked at Young, stood at the side with his phalanx of lawyers. "I don't want to be here a second longer than I have to be".

As the FBI agents entered the Offices of Rigsby-Halliwell, Jack Young took out a cell phone and pressed some buttons. He waited for a second and spoke quietly and quickly.

"Close it down. I don't care how."

**HARVARD UNIVERSITY**

Walter was stood in the lab, Astrid and Peter behind him and all three were watching the sample of nanites they'd taken from Rigsby-Halliwell swirling around in a clear plastic container. Olivia and Broyles were talking in Olivia's office.

"What do you think, Agent Dunham? Were Rigsby-Halliwell hiding something?" Olivia rubbed her temple. It had been a long, fraught 24 hours.

"Probably, if I've learned anything dealing with Bell and Sharp, these types of companies are always hiding something." She gesticulated at the boxes of paperwork they'd taken from Rigsby-Halliwell relating to their nanite project. "Maybe there's something in there." Broyles smiled.

"Only one way to find out. Pleased to be back in the saddle?" Olivia smiled. It looked tired but genuine.

"Yeah, I am."

Broyles walked to the door.

"Well then get to it, Agent Dunham".

Walter and Peter watched as Astrid put a drop of nanite solution on a spare train wheel that the LA Subway Authority had provided. Peter started a stopwatch and they waited, and watched. After ten minutes of no activity, Astrid peered closely at the spot of liquid sat on the bare metal.

"Is it doing anything?"

Walter walked over.

"It would appear not, which is most puzzling, as these nanites are the same in design as those I found in the grey dust we tested earlier." He walked off muttering to himself. Peter put the stopwatch down.

"So Halliwell-Rigsby are off the hook?" Walter shrugged.

"I don't know Son." Walter mulled over this information and sucked on the straw of a fruit smoothie. It was Astrid who broke the silence.

"Walter, you said that these things are like mechanical viruses. How come the common cold virus only affects Humans and not cats, or Goldfish?"

"Because, my dear, the common cold virus has evolved so it can only utilise human cells…" He smiled a broad smile, eyes alive and sparkling. "Oh My Dear, you really are priceless." Astrid beamed and Peter looked confused

"Hey, what just happened?"

"Astrid figured out why these nanites might be constructed the same as the ones used in the subway, but aren't doing the same things."

"Why?"

"Wait and see. Agent Farnsworth, where are the samples of the nanites from the subway station…" They headed off to the other side of the lab, Astrid digging Peter in the ribs as she walked past, fixing him with a jokey 'try to keep up Peter' stare. Peter rolled his eyes and took Olivia a cup of coffee.

"I brought you some caffeine, thought you might be able to use it." He perched the cup next to her and she smiled at him, taking her glasses off and rubbing her eyes, before taking a sip. It was rocket fuel. "How are you doing?"

Olivia cradled her coffee cup.

"If Rigsby-Halliwell had a theft, there's no evidence of it here. If they're up to no good, then they've hidden their tracks pretty well. In fact, every piece of paperwork is perfect. At least it is so far."

"How often does that happen?" Peter was perched on the side of her desk. She shrugged.

"It doesn't. Not unless you're trying to hide something. What about you?" Peter shrugged.

"Astrid and Walter double-teamed me, I think Astrid sassed me too." Olivia laughed.

"You probably deserved it."

"Probably. They were hustled in the corner when I came in here. No doubt we'll find out soon. We did confirm, though, that the nanites used in the subway came from Rigsby-Halliwell." Olivia leaned back in her chair.

"Well that's something, but I'll need something more if I'm going back to put Young in handcuffs." Peter watched her for a second, she looked so tired but the tension that had marked her features since arriving back was slowly relaxing its grip.

"Liv, go home, get some sleep. Who knows how long it'll take Walter to pull this rabbit out of the hat." She smiled at him, and he returned it, placing a hand over hers. She looked down at their hands, now intertwined.

"I think I might try to get a couple of hours here on the couch. Walter might need you here, and if I'm going home, I want you to come with me." Peter leaned over and kissed her cheek.

"I'll find you a blanket."

She was awoken by Walter barging into the office.

"Olivia, wake up, we've figured it out.!" Olivia shook herself awake and threw the blanket off.

"What is it Walter?" In his excitement, Walter had left, but Peter walked in and placed a glass of water next to her.

"Sorry Liv, I tried to get him to let you sleep, but he wasn't having it."

"How long was I asleep?"

"10 hours." He looked at his watch. "It's quarter to six in the evening." She looked at her clothes and ran a hand through her hair.

"I need a shower."

Peter pulled her to her feet.

"I'll drive you home in a few minutes, but Walter really does have something you need to see." They walked into the Lab where Walter and Astrid were waiting for them.

"It's a weapon!" Astrid blurted it out and Olivia stared at her. Walter looked at Astrid aghast.

"I wanted to say that!"

"A weapon?"

"Yes." Walter forgot his stolen thunder instantly. "A quite brilliant one, and monumentally dangerous." He ushered Olivia over to the bench where he stood. There was a petrie dish filled with the same fluid as they'd taken from Rigsby-Halliwell. "Remember how I told you that nanites were essentially mechanical viruses? Well, like viruses, they can only reproduce in a controlled environment." Olivia nodded.

"Like a human body? I remember Walter."

"Right, yes, of course you do. Well, even nanites designed to work in an outside environment are only able to use a very specific material to reproduce themselves. You have to make a new batch if you want them to use something else. It's what stops them reproducing themselves indefinitely." He pointed down at the dish. "These are different. These, if you put them in a suspension of titanium alloy in powdered form, they reproduce themselves using titanium alloy. Take them out of that and put them in orange juice and after about 4 hours, they start to use citric acid."

Olivia looked non-plussed and turned to Peter, who looked horrified.

"Peter?"

"Think of the 'flu virus – it can mutate in time between infectious phases. What they've done here is create a nanite that can 'jump species' in a few hours. If you need them to unblock a clog in an oil pipe or fix a fiber-optic cable, then you don't need them to change what they use to reproduce themselves. If you wanted to cause a famine, though…" Olivia looked from Peter to Walter.

"So you're telling me this is a biological weapon?"

Walter's normally cheerful face became deadly serious.

"Yes, My Dear, I'm afraid so." He paused. "But something else bothers me. The Subway…." Olivia was way ahead of him.

"If this was terrorism, why has no-one claimed responsibility, and why choose a train empty of people in the middle of the night?"

"Field test." It was Peter. All three looked at him. "Think about it. A controlled environment, little chance of cross-contamination…." Olivia snatched up her phone and dialled Broyles.

"Sir, we need to bring Jack Young in now….."


	6. Chapter 6

**DISUSED WAREHOUSE, PIERS PARK, BOSTON**

Three well-dressed men pulled up in a town car outside the dilapidated warehouse and got out. One of the homeless men who used to use the warehouses on the docks as a place to sleep in bad weather was stood in the doorway of the adjacent warehouse sorting through the contents of his shopping cart. One of the men put a pair of dark glasses, despite the late hour, walked over to him and handed him $40.

"Get lost".

The homeless man pocketed the money nervously and wheeled his cart off into the evening gloom and the three well-dressed men congregated around the open trunk of the town car. One of them passed the other two men silenced MAC-10's, which they made no attempt to conceal.

"Are we sure this is the place?"

"Certain. The containers have GPS tracking chips. This is the place."

All three took out torches and moved purposefully through the door and into the dark interior. They moved silently, hearing every creak and groan of the building as it settled in the cool of the evening. They were predators, professional hunters with many years experience in some of the worst, most craven places on the planet doing exactly what they were now doing in downtown Boston.

They moved through the warehouse swiftly, the man in front following the directions on the GPS tracker. Eventually, the electronic trail led them to a metal door. The three men checked their guns and were about to open the door when one of their flashlights caught a crumpled form in the corner. One of the men walked over to it and shone his spotlight over the form and waved the other men over. The body was a homeless man, and his arms had been removed above the elbow.

"Who the hell is this guy?"

"Dead."

They opened the door and walked through. The room was dark and the floor was wet so they moved slowly and deliberately. In the far end of room was the bed, the trunks and the desk, but the containers were empty of fluid, but not entirely empty. A pair of skeletal arms was stuffed into one of the containers, the bones looked pale and clean against the beam of the flashlight.

"Who the hell is this guy? Jeffrey Dahmer?" One of the men walked over to the container and removed the lid. It was slick with a pale pink fluid. They man pulled his hand back with a cry of disgust.

"What the hell is that?" The lights came on at the same time as the man withdrew his hand from the container.

"So Young decided to cancel the project did he?" The three men swung round and stared at the figure framed in the doorway. "I won't come in if that's OK." The three men took the safeties of their MAC-10's. The man with the GPS tracker took a step forward.

"Mr Crown, Mr Young requires your presence back in San Jose immediately. We have been tasked to bring you back. Breathing or not. Your choice."

Crown shook his head slowly.

"I don't think so. Mr Young wanted a field test, and I've only just got started. He needs to have a little more faith in his own product, or rather my product."

"The LA Subway thing was stupid, Crown. The FBI, Homeland security, they're all over it. Now you've moved onto experimenting on the homeless? I think you should think carefully about your options. Mr Young was most insistent and….." Crown interrupted him/

"Do you have any idea of the implications of this series of tests? You're at the forefront of scientific progress and all you can do is stand there waving guns."

"Mr Crown, we're not scientists, I don't know about your invention and I don't care. I'm here to bring you to Mr Young and that's what I'm going to do…." He was cut short by the screams of one of his colleagues who was staring at his melting hand, the flesh dripping off the fingers like candle wax. The man with the GPS Tracker levelled his MAC-10 at Crown.

"What the hell have you done?"

"I'd be less worried about me and more worried about what you're stood in." The hit-man shone his torch at his feet and watched in incomprehension at the spread of bubbling flesh where his feet had been, puddling out into the pink fluid in which he stood. He looked up in terror at Crown and emptied his MAC-10 into the doorway where Crown had stood. It was then that the nanites reached his knees and the man collapsed face first into the fluid spilled across the floor of the warehouse.

Crown listened from the other room until the screaming stopped. He then took the remaining container and a couple of suitcases and walked out to the Town car, jump started it and drove off towards the gate to the Piers Park and beyond, the freeway.

**FRINGE HEADQUARTERS, BOSTON.**

Olivia stood in the office behind the one-way mirror which formed one wall of the interrogation room. Broyles and Peter stood next to her, all three watching Jack Young, head rested on his hands which were laid flat on the table in front of him.

"He'll lawyer up." Broyles was speaking to no-one in particular.

"Maybe." Olivia went to the door. "We'll see."

She disappeared and they watched through the mirror as she opened the door and sat down on the opposite side of desk. Broyles punched the intercom so he and Peter could hear the interrogation.

"Agent Dunham isn't it?" Young looked up. "That's with an 'a' right? I want to get the name right on the civil papers I'll be serving against you, Homeland Security and pretty much everyone you've ever talked to."

"Cute." Olivia took some photographs from a file she'd put on the desk. "These are photographs from a derailed LA Subway train which crashed in North Hollywood."

"I heard about it on the news."

"Rigsby-Halliwell build the wheels for the trains that run on the LA Subway, don't they?" Young fixed Olivia with a glare that she thought he saved for his most easily intimidated assistants.

"Are you going to get to the point?" Olivia smiled.

"In this room, Mr Young, I ask, you answer. Do you build the wheels or not."

Young shrugged.

"You already know we do, or I wouldn't be sat here."

"Mr Young, that subway train derailed because somewhere between South LA and North Hollywood, Nanites, designed to be compatible with exactly the right type of titanium alloy you use for those wheels and constructed by your company, consumed every ounce of titanium. It's what caused the derailment and I was wondering, could this point any more clearly back towards you?" Young stared at her with astonishment.

"I don't know what sort of shakedown this is, but that, Agent Durham, is completely fantastical and I really don't have time to play these sorts of games."

Olivia scratched her head and put the photos back in the file.

"OK, Mr Young, let me lay it on the line for you. We have a derailed subway train. We have six people dead. We know how it happened and every element points to the involvement of Rigsby-Halliwell. We have an artificial pathogen, your artificial pathogen, on the LA Public Transportation system. My boss is on the other side of that mirror and pretty much everyone who has a campaign fund has been ringing him screaming domestic terrorism." She stood up. "Are you aware of the Patriot Act?"

Young stood up with a start.

"Now wait a minute Dunham…" Olivia leapt forward across the table so her face was an inch from Young's, who flinched and moved back.

"No, you listen! Domestic bio-terrorism means The Patriot Act. We can hold you, withhold your access to a lawyer, hell, we could give you a one-way ticket to Guantanamo. We can go through your offices for weeks, copying every hard drive, questioning every board member…..in a competitive industry like yours, I can't imagine that's a CV builder." She stepped back.

"If you ever want to see daylight again, the first thing I need from you is a list of every member of staff who works on your nanite project."

Astrid walked into the room where Broyles and Peter were watching the interrogation.

"Sir, Boston PD picked up a vagrant in Piers Park who claimed that three armed men entered a disused building on the Waterfront. PD on-site have called in the Health department who called the FBI who called us. Apparently they've got four bodies, three of which have 'melted'.

"Melted?" Astrid shrugged.

"That's what they said." Peter walked over to Broyles.

"That's our guy."

"How do you know?"

"The first victim in the Subway maintenance depot – melted was a pretty good description of his condition." Broyles turned to Astrid.

"Tell the FBI we'll be taking point on this one. Astrid, go pick up Walter and get him to the crime scene. Peter, get Olivia out of there. Young can wait." Peter picked up his cell phone and texted Olivia. A minute later they were in the car heading towards Piers Park, leaving Young in the Interrogation room, Patriot Act ringing in his ears.

**DISUSED WAREHOUSE, PIERS PARK, BOSTON**

By the time that Peter and Olivia arrived at the warehouse, the FBI had already roped the site off and Boston PD officers, FBI agents and Health department officials were crowded round at the far end of the building. Hastily erected arc lights spilled light over the inside of the black building and the City coroner was busying himself around the armless body of the vagrant in the corner of the room adjacent to the one where the hitman died. Olivia and Pete walked through the mass of law enforcement humanity to find Walter and Astrid were stood in the doorway.

"Olivia, Peter!" Walter's eyes sparkled with excitement. "It's like melted strawberry ice-cream!" The floor was awash with pink and red slush, twenty feet in diameter topped by the now familiar grey dust. In the centre were three skeletons dressed in wet, dark suits.

"Jeez, Walter, melted ice cream? Come on!" Astrid leaned over to whisper in Peter's ear.

"You think melted ice cream is bad? His first suggestion was meat slushy." Olivia ignored the banter.

"Walter, is it nanites?" Walter looked at her.

"We'll find out when I get a sample. If this was caused by the nanites, I'd rather not walk in and get a sample in the traditional way." A cop walked over to Walter and handed him a long stick with a q-tip taped to the end. "Ah, thank you Officer Grant." Walter leaned over the tape and dipped the q-tip into the fluid and withdrew it, carefully snipped off the end and it fell into a test tube Astrid held. "I need to get this to the lab.

"I'll take him" Astrid volunteered.

Peter walked up to Olivia and shone his torch at the container at the far end of the roped off room. Olivia peered through the beam of light.

"Is that a hand in there?" Peter nodded.

"Boston PD has a corpse of a homeless guy over there, missing both his arms. I think this is our guy." Olivia looked at him.

"The armless guy? He might have needed some help, don't you think?" Peter looked at Olivia with astonishment.

"Was that a joke, Agent Dunham?" She smiled shyly. "No, not the armless guy, I think he was the main ingredient in a nanite soup. It suggests that our guy knew someone was coming after him and he prepared a trap, just in case." A cop walked over to them.

"Agent Dunham, we've found a silenced MAC-10. Serial number's been filed off."

"The hit man's close-in tool of choice". Olivia turned the machine pistol over in her hands. She looked from the gun to the room behind her and back again. Peter studied her carefully.

"What are you thinking?" She looked at Peter.

"I think that if this was some kind of off-the-books weapons test by Rigsby-Halliwell, it's not anymore. We need to go back to the Lab. I've got a question for Walter."

They drove in silence for a while. Peter looked at his watch, it was nearly 11pm.

"No wonder I'm tired. I think I've slept about five hours in the last three days." Olivia smiled.

"I'm sure Walter could hook you up." Peter laughed out loud.

"Walter? No thanks, ever since the omelette incident, I've steered clear of Walter's preparations." Olivia looked at him.

"Omelette incident?" Peter looked back at her.

"Believe me, if you enjoy eggs, it's not a story you ever want to hear." It was quiet again for a long time, and when she spoke, Olivia's voice was low and husky.

"I missed you." Peter looked into her face, illuminated by the dials and instruments on the SUV dash. She didn't look back, but continued to speak. "Your father, he kept me in a cell, in the dark. It was like Walter's tank. No sound, no smells, no voices, only what I could feel. I didn't know the time, how long I'd been there, and I didn't know where I was. For all I knew, any second, they could drag me out of that cell and put a bullet in my head." Peter looked down at her hand on the gear shift. Her knuckles were white. He gently placed his hand over hers and felt her flinch.

"Olivia, I'm so sorry." She turned and looked at him, eyes wide.

"Why?"

"Because you ended up there because of me, because I was there. If I hadn't been so mad at Walter, at you…."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, about what I saw, what I knew about you." Peter smiled warmly.

"Liv, you don't ever have to apologise to me about that. I know Walter begged you. I know where the blame lies." It was Olivia's turn to smile at Peter.

"I know, but Walter, he may not have thought about the consequences of what he did, but he did it for the best of reasons and, no offence, what I've seen of your real father, I'd take Walter every time, doom omelettes or no doom omelettes." It was quiet again for a while, though Peter made no attempt to move his hand from hers. It was Peter who eventually spoke.

"It's getting better, you know. Between me and Walter. It's not where we were before, but it's a lot better than when I left. He's calmed down a lot since you came back." He sat back in the car seat. "And I missed you too." Olivia looked at him.

"Peter, I will tell you what happened over there, but it'll take some time while I sort through it myself. I need you to be patient with me. I need you to know it might not be easy."

Peter squeezed her hand.

"Easy? Since when has anything we've ever done been easy? Rage viruses, Scorpion-snake things, giant hookworms, shape shifters – and yet I'm still here."

Olivia laughed, the tension in her voice retreating.

"Yes you are, Peter Bishop. Yes you are."


	7. Chapter 7

**HARVARD UNIVERSITY**

Walter was waiting for them when Peter and Olivia walked into the lab.

"Excellent, you've arrived. Astrid was convinced you'd booked into a motel for coitus." Peter cringed and Olivia looked aghast at Astrid. She rolled her eyes.

"No Walter, that was you, remember?" Walter considered this.

"Really? It doesn't sound like something I'd say. Never mind." He presented Olivia with a petrie dish with the grey dust in it. "This is from the crime scene at the warehouse. It's the same nanites that were used in Los Angeles, though these have been cultured to reproduce using human fat molecules. I posit that the individual responsible for this used a human victim to create the medium in which to 'programme' these nanites." Olivia stared at the dish.

"Walter, what kind of equipment would you need to 'programme' these nanites?" Walter shrugged.

"You'd need a suitable container and time, Agent Dunham. If you wanted to speed the process up, you could artificially control the temperature and the concentration of material in suspension to programme them, but nothing complex." Peter looked from Walter to Olivia.

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking our guy has a plan, but he's probably on his own. I'm wondering if he can reproduce these things alone?" Walter shook his head?

"I doubt it. These nanites are easy to re-programme but very difficult to make from scratch. It would help to know how many he has left." Olivia put her hand on Walter's shoulder.

"Walter, I need you and Astrid to figure out a way to stop these things. Can you do it?" Walter looked insulted.

"Of course I can. What a question." Then it dawned on him. "Oh, you mean quickly. Well, I do have some theories….." Walter wondered off talking to himself and Astrid followed. Olivia took Peter by the arm and led him to her office. She shut the door behind them.

"Yesterday, you made reference to something called grey goo. What did you mean?"

Peter poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down.

"There's a mathematician called Eric Drexler who wrote a book on nanotechnology like nanites and in it, he puts forward a hypothesis that nanites would eventually evolve to the point where they would be able to utilise any substance to reproduce, reducing the surface of the planet to a thin layer of grey goo. A sort of nano-apocalypse." Peter studied her. "Why do you ask?"

"Because if Young did employ our guy to run some under-the-counter field test of these things and he went rogue, I need to know the worst case scenario."

"Hey, the guy could be being paid to hand these over to the competition, for all we know. Trade secret like that, I'm betting hits have been put on people for less." Olivia considered the thought for a moment.

"Maybe. We need to sweat that list of employees out of Young." Olivia's phone rang and she answered it and listened before snapping it shut. "Whatever he's doing, he's gonna do it soon. Crime scene guys at the warehouse think he took the melted guy's town car." Peter stood up.

"Nothing this guy has done so far suggests stupid. He's got to know we have Young by now." Olivia nodded.

"Whatever he's doing, it's going to be soon."

**FRINGE DIVISION HEADQUARTERS, BOSTON.**

Olivia and Peter walked into Young's interrogation room. He looked at them and didn't speak, though some of the swagger he'd displayed during the initial questioning had drained out of him. Olivia didn't waste any time.

"Mr Young. I want that list." Young's voice was steady, but his eyes darted from Peter to Olivia.

"And I want a lawyer. I guess we can't always get what we want." Olivia leaned across the table and when she spoke, her voice was full of malice.

"We just don't have the time to screw around. So I'll offer you this deal. You give me the list, and I don't walk out of this room and leave you with him." She nodded in Peter's direction and on cue he waved and smiled.

"Hi." Young looked amused.

"I was expecting more than good cop, bad cop."

"Suit yourself." Olivia turned to Peter. "He's all yours." With that she left . Peter walked over to the chair opposite Young and sat down. Young stared at him but didn't speak. Peter just smiled.

"My name's Peter. I'm not an FBI agent, they just bring me in when I'm needed. I guess I'm a contractor of sorts." He reached in his pocket and pulled out a plastic tube with a glowing green liquid in it. He placed it on the table in front of Young and left it there. Young stared at it as Peter continued.

"We took this from your lab, so I'm guessing you know what it is. Here's how this is going to play out. You're going to ring your office and get them to fax a list of everyone who has ever worked on your nanite programme. Then, if you're lucky, you won't die by lethal injection because of your immediate and full co-operation. If you don't, well then I guess I'll take the top of this tube and empty the contents of it over…"he paused for a second…"lets say your right hand." Any bravado Young had left shrank at the site of the tube.

"You can't do that, it's torture!"

"It's expediting the inevitable. The clock is ticking Mr Young." Beads of sweat formed on Young's forehead but he kept quiet.

"So be it." He took the top off the tube and grabbed Young's hand. Young yelped and tried to pull it back, but Peter hauled him over the table.

"Wait!, wait. I'll get you the list, I'll do whatever you want, just don't spill that." Peter let him go and put the tube down, passing him his cell phone. Young made the call and sat back, panting.

"You're insane!" Peter smiled and drank the fluid down in two gulps. Young looked at him in astonishment. Peter laughed.

"7up and food colouring." He tossed the empty tube at Young. "I'd get comfortable if I were you. I doubt you'll be going anywhere for a while."

**HARVARD UNIVERSITY**

The list of names was forwarded to Astrid's computer and she and Olivia were systematically going through all thirty seven names, looking for anything that might have been out-of-the-ordinary. Walter was working furiously trying to find a way of stopping the nanites reproducing. Peter felt like a spare wheel. He looked across the lab and saw everyone he cared about doing their thing – Olivia and Astrid being the dedicated G-women, Walter doing his usual half Jerry Lewis, half Peter Cushing turn at his desk. He thought back to his drive through Alternative Manhattan with the other Walter, how different his life might have been had Walter not abducted him in 1985. Would he have spent so long travelling through the hell holes of the world? Would he have felt the same sense of belonging as he felt now, watching his family, a family he never thought he'd have, all under the same roof. He smiled to himself and walked over to Walter.

"Hey Walter, can I help?" Walter looked up.

"Of course. Two sugars in mine please."

"You want me to make coffee? I have an IQ of over 180, you do know that?"

"And I'm very proud son." Walter stared expectantly at Peter who rolled his eyes.

"Fine"

Astrid didn't look away from the computer.

"Me too, please"

Olivia just put her hand up and smiled slyly at Peter, who threw his hands up in mock exasperation.

"Great. I'm a teas maid in a Hammer horror movie. That's great."

Astrid was scrolling through the names that Young had sent them, Olivia looking over her shoulder.

"Wait – scroll back." Astrid stopped and scrolled the screen back. "That guy."

"Brandon Crown?"

The list included dates of employment. Crown's ceased six weeks before the LA Subway crash. "That's a bit of a coincidence, isn't it? Olivia pulled out her cell phone. She dialled the number of Rigsby-Halliwell.

"Hello, I'd like to speak to Human Resources please. Yes, I'll hold." Astrid looked at her quizzically. Olivia winked at her. "Hello, my name is …." She looked around the lab and saw Peter walking back into the lab with Coffee…"Jean Cowan. I'm working for JGR healthcare and we have a client named Brandon Crown, we seem to have a problem here as we have no records of recent payments from your company into his healthcare insurance. Could you confirm whether payment was made?" There was a pause. "I understand you're not supposed to give out that sort of information, but our computers are on the glitch and I don't want Mr Crown to default on his insurance." Another pause. Olivia smiled. "Thank you, that's most considerate. Goodbye." Peter put her coffee in front of her. "No time. You and I are paying Jack Young a visit." Peter looked confused.

"Why".

"To ask him why he's still paying health insurance to a man who, according to Rigsby-Halliwell's employment record, no longer works for them."

**FRINGE DIVISION HEADQUARTERS, BOSTON**

Olivia walked straight into the room in which Young was sleeping, kicking the bunk he way lying on. Young shook himself awake and stared up at Olivia, sly smile crossing his face. Then he saw Peter stood behind her, and it disappeared.

"What did you recruit Brandon Crown?"

"Agent Dunham, I have no idea who that is." It was Olivia's turn to smile.

"Really? Employee of Rigsby-Halliwell, worked in 'special projects' after a brief spell with your nanite team. You poached him from Massive Dynamic, or at least he worked there before he worked for you."

"Rigsby Halliwell has twenty-two thousand employees, Agent Dunham. How many do you think I know?"

"The question really should be how many of them have you been paying via a bank account in the Cayman Islands, even after they've left your employ." Young's voice was steady, but his eyes gave him away.

"You'll have to do better than that. There's no way you got that information from the Cayman Islands that quickly." It was Peter's turn to speak.

"Most innocent people generally don't know how Cayman Islands bank accounts work." Olivia spoke slowly and carefully, so that Young understood the implications of every word she spoke.

"Mr Young, here's what I think happened. Mr Crown brought you some information from Massive Dynamic on their nanite programme. You wanted to know whether you were getting the real thing or played by Massive Dynamic. Crown proposed a field test of the nanite technology in the big wide world. You set him up, provided him with the money from an untraceable source knowing that what you were testing would be worth billions to the US Air Force if it worked, but you couldn't risk Massive Dynamic perfecting the technology first, hence the unorthodox field test." Young smiled as Olivia spoke, but she could see the panic rising behind his eyes. She continued.

"I'm guessing that the field test wasn't supposed to be the subway train – not exactly low profile after all, and that you didn't even know that it was Crown until we turned up with the subpoena. That was the point at which you realised that Crown had gone rogue, and you took the best option to end the project with no questions asked. Problem was Crown finished off your band of 'problem solvers' – dissolved them with your nanites." She stepped back and put her hands on her hips. "I can tie you to the deaths of ten people right now and I think I can make a decent argument that they died in the commission of a terrorist act. Do you know what that means?" Young shook his head. Every ounce of fight had left him and he looked like he had aged ten years in the few minutes Peter and Olivia spoke to him.

"That means murder with special circumstances. California still has the death penalty. You do the maths."

"Unless…." Young knew it was over. Olivia sat down on a chair at the far end of Young's cell."

"I want every scrap of information you can give me on Brandon Crown. I want everything he brought you from Massive Dynamic. Most of all, I need to find him Mr Young."

"I'll give you everything I have, but I don't know where he's going. I haven't been able to contact him for a week." Peter leaned over and took a small amount of pleasure from the fact that Young moved back from him slowly.

"The next target might be Logan International Airport, or a Patriots game. You want that on your conscience?"

"I Don't Know!" Young shouted. "He was supposed to test them on a disused place Rigsby-Halliwell owns on Boston Docks. No people. No casualties. We never heard from him." Olivia looked carefully at Young. She put a hand on Peter's shoulder.

"Let's go."

They were silent on the drive back to Harvard, both mulling over what Young had told them. Olivia was driving and when she spoke, it sounded as if she was talking to herself.

"What I don't understand is why choose the subway train? Young set Crown up in Boston, yet he goes back to LA. Why?" Peter shrugged.

"I don't know. Maybe he's crazy, maybe it was a target of opportunity – he had to pick something Rigsby – Halliwell made so he could acclimatise the nanites."

"Yeah but surely he could find something closer to Boston." She chewed her bottom lip as considered this. Peter watched her. Doing that drove him crazy. She noticed him looking at her.

"What?" Peter smiled and blushed.

"Nothing. You know it drives me crazy when you do that." It was Olivia's turn to blush.

"Really?" She stared at him and slowly bit her bottom lip. "When I do this?" Peter laughed out loud.

"You are bad, Agent Durham. Very bad." Olivia thought for a second that he was going to lean over and kiss her, but instead his face clouded over.

"What is it Peter."

"What if the Train was a deliberate target?"

"You mean terrorism? Yeah, we've been investigating that possibility."

"No, not terrorism. What if it were picked for another reason?" He took out his cell phone and called Astrid.

"Astrid, do me a favour – can you do a web search. The parameters? The LA Transit Authority and Massive Dynamic. Thanks." Olivia looked at him. His eyes were lost in thought. It was kind-of moody.

"You know, when you look like that, it drives me crazy!" Peter looked back at her but didn't laugh. His mind was racing.

"Why did Massive Dynamic let the guy go? He's clearly a genius – Massive Dynamic must have had their reasons." Peter's cell phone rang and he answered it. "Hi Astrid. Really? Thanks. We're five minutes out. Have Walter ready to go. Bye." He snapped the phone shut and turned to Olivia. "Guess who signed a twelve billion dollar contract to provide gas turbines for the LA Transit trains?"

Olivia looked shocked.

"Massive Dynamic. So this isn't terrorism, it's a vendetta."

"Yeah, and I think I know where he's going."

"I better call Nina."


	8. Chapter 8

**ONE BLOCK FROM MASSIVE DYNAMIC HEADQUARTERS, NEW YORK CITY**

Olivia and Broyles briefed the FBI Hostage Rescue Team a block from Massive Dynamic's offices. Nina had agreed that it would be difficult to organise an evacuation of all four thousand staff working in the office without panic and without alerting Crown, so she'd been sending people out a few at a time, not with any expectation that she could evacuate the whole building this way, but because it was better than sitting there and waiting, knowing everyone was at risk.

Broyles and the HRT Captain, a tall, grey haired ex-Delta Force commando named Baker were throwing about ideas as Peter and Olivia listened.

"We could pump in methoxyflurane gas and knock the guy out." Baker suggested. Peter shook his head.

"How big is the car park level? Do you even know he's there? You'll need to know because methoxyflurane in low doses will disorientate the guy and him staggering about with a container of nanites is probably a scenario we want to avoid."

"That probably discounts flash-bangs and darting him with acetylcholine then. It doesn't leave a whole lot left other than shooting the guy."

Olivia looked at Baker.

"If tranking him is a no-go, then it does suggest that shooting him is a last resort. We need to go in and talk him down." She looked from face to face. "That's the only way this ends well, so let's keep that at the front of our minds, shall we?" She walked over to Walter, who was stood with Astrid looking nervously at the Massive Dynamic building on the skyline to their north.

"Walter, how do you know he'll be in the parking sub-basement?

Walter shrugged.

"I believe he wants to bring the building down. The nanites were configured for that and Young said that was the original plan, just a different building. If you want to do that by having the nanites consume the concrete, then you need to be as low in the structure as possible."

"How confident are you that your plan will work?"

"Quite confident, Agent Dunham. The science is extremely simple. The key, of course will be putting the pieces in place to make it work." Olivia smiled at him.

"You leave that to me Walter. Just be ready to go." Walter gave her an exaggerated thumbs up and a cheesy smile. She patted him on the shoulder and walked back to Broyles, Baker and Peter.

"Walter thinks he has a way of neutralising the nanites. I say we go in and try to talk the guy down." Baker looked over at Walter.

"That guy? No offence but he doesn't look like he could find his way home." Peter visibly bristled and slowly squared up to the HRT captain.

"That guy is my father, and his IQ is higher than you can count, buddy, so why don't you cut him some slack." Baker and Peter stared at each other and Baker started to say something, but the steel in Peter's eyes made him pause. Baker turned to Olivia.

"It's your show Agent Dunham but know this, if this guy so much as twitches, we will drop him. OK?"

Olivia nodded solemnly. She put her vest on and handed another to Peter. He looked at her.

"Shouldn't I have a gun too?"

"Why? 18 armed SWAT officers and two FBI agents not carrying enough firepower for you? You're going in because I want someone in there if this goes south. Stay behind me."

They moved as a single group, Baker up front with an infra-red body heat detector. Walter and Astrid stood outside, Astrid with her radio turned on, Walter staring intently at the entrance to the Massive Dynamic car park.

Peter moved less than a foot behind Olivia. He noticed her looking up at the ceiling every few steps, but the need to remain silent prevented him from asking her what she was doing. Suddenly Baker stopped and held up his hand. Everyone moving behind him stopped. It was silent. He held up three fingers the two. Olivia leaned over and whispered quietly in Peter's ear.

"Baker has picked up a heat signature. Three o'clock, twenty metres away. Stay behind me." Peter nodded and they turned Right in the darkness of the parking garage and started to move, SWAT team spreading out along a ten metre front.

"You can stop now."

The voice echoed in the darkness. They juddered to a stop. Olivia called out.

"Crown! Olivia Dunham, Homeland Security. I'm going to walk towards you. Do not do anything stupid OK?"

Several concrete beams had obscured her view, but as she approached the source of the voice, she could see that the area he was working in was illuminated by a couple of large arc lights. The man in the middle of the pool of yellow light was tall, balding with finely cut features and a thin, spindly frame. He was wearing a set of City of New York Light and Power overalls. On three of the surrounding concrete pillars were taped large plastic containers with the same green swirling liquid that she had seen in the labs at Massive Dynamic.

"Agent Dunham is it?" Crown looked at her and held out his hand, in which he held a device that looked a bit like a TV remote. "I'm holding a dead man's switch. I think you know what that is. It's connected to several ounces of explosives mounted on each of the containers. Not much of an explosive, about the same as a decent sized firecracker because that's what they are." He laughed at the irony. "However, it's more than enough to blow open all these containers and I think you know now what's in them."

Olivia slowly and carefully put her SIG back in its holster.

"What do you want, Crown?" He moved closer to her and she saw that he had one of MAC-10's the hit men sent to kill him had carried. She also noticed his laptop was glowing on the floor behind him and Crown saw her looking at it.

"It's linked to the security cameras, so I can be sure that no-one's coming out. If they try to evacuate, I'll blow this thing."

"You didn't answer the question. What do you want?" He studied her carefully.

"You think I'm a terrorist?"

"You killed ten people, so terrorist or serial killer. You chose." Crown laughed.

"You've not done the crisis negotiation course have you?" He stopped walking. "What do you think?"

"I don't know Brandon. I think maybe that you're pissed at Massive Dynamic and I'm curious to know why." Crown's smile disappeared.

"Well done Agent Durham. I figured that the LA Subway thing would tweak some curiosity. I thought it would confuse you all long enough to complete my work here, but that's OK." He sat down on the floor, cross legged, looking incredibly serene and Olivia did the same, something in the floor of her gut ringing alarm bells. This guy was far too calm.

"I came to Massive Dynamic with an idea to revolutionise engineering. I worked for them for eight years, and gave them a product that could be worth billions to them – every engineering company in the world would want re-programmable nanites you could use in the environment. It would be the most important invention since the microchip. But that wasn't enough for them. They wanted to weaponise it. I won't be this generation's Robert Oppenheimer. So I took the design and some samples to Rigsby-Halliwell, thinking that with my help they could develop the design faster, patent it and put Massive Dynamic out of the Nanite business." He spoke quietly and slowly, with no hint of anger or regret. "You know who their first call was to when the design proved successful? The Department of Defense. That's when I knew this technology was too dangerous for us to control."

"So you planned the field test with Jack Young." Olivia continued, the pieces fitting together in her mind as she spoke. "You played along with no intention of doing the test they wanted, just so you could get enough nanites to do what you really wanted. Here."

"You are good." There was no trace of sarcasm in his voice.

"There's just one thing I don't get." Olivia admitted. "Why the subway train?"

"You haven't figured that one out yet? OK – two birds with one stone – I needed a field test subject and when the cause of the accident became known, Rigsby – Halliwell shares would nosedive. Young would lose his job and perhaps a less greedy CEO might see the nanite programme for what it is and stop it."

"And what about Franks?" Crown looked confused.

"Who?"

"The man you murdered in the Transit maintenance depot? How had he offended you?" She spat the words out and Olivia thought she saw a flicker of remorse.

"He discovered me. I couldn't afford to get caught. I knew Young would send people to terminate my contract so to speak, when I went off plan, so I'd prepared some special nanites of my own. The man in the maintenance yard was a field test. Agent Dunham, I regret his death, but it happened for the greater good."

"Mr Crown, I doubt he felt that way as he was skinned alive." Crown didn't answer, so Olivia continued. "So what do you want?"

Walter was stood by the car listening with Astrid to the conversation on the radio, when a uniformed SWAT technical support agent walked up to him.

"Walter Bishop?" Walter turned round.

"What a coincidence, that's my name too." The SWAT Officer looked confused. Astrid leaned over.

"He's got a lot on his mind." The SWAT officer gave Astrid a look and handed Walter a set of plans.

"Agent Dunham asked me to pass these onto you. It shows the main electrical cabling conduits in the car park level." Walter's eyes lit up.

"Ah, Excellent. Thank you Mr Bishop." The Swat officer looked sideways at Walter.

"No problem…"

Walter spread the maps over the car bonnet and started to study them carefully.

"Mr Bishop,"

The SWAT agent looked round wearily.

"I was wondering, do you think you could find me a fire axe, a set of rubber boots and some gloves?"

Olivia knew things were going south when Crown answered her question by standing slowly.

"Agent Dunham, what I want you can't give me." He sighed, heavy and deep, the first real sign of emotion she'd seen since she began the conversation. "Nanites as a weapon would make the hydrogen bomb look like a box of matches. Think of it. A foreign agent drives into Nebraska and releases nanites that eat noting but starch. Three weeks later there isn't a leaf or an ear of corn that isn't lying as a pile of grey dust. No. Not on my conscience." Olivia could sense the end approaching. She looked at the ceiling and saw it, dim and distant in the semi-darkness. It would have to be a hell of a shot. She wasn't ready to go there yet. She had to give talking him down one last try.

"What about the thousands of people above you? Do you want them on your conscience? What about Rigsby-Halliwell – do you think they'll stop?" He smiled. It was sad and inevitable.

"Agent Dunham, sometimes there are no nice easy endings. Sometimes you've got to do something terrible to avoid something worse. As for Rigsby – Halliwell? What's done is done." He released the switch in his hand.

"NO!" Olivia screamed and drew her gun. The charges on each of the containers exploded, splashing the nanite solution all around them Olivia watched in horror as it began to dissolve the concrete like acid, eating away at the support structures in the car park and sending out puffs of grey dust. Thinking Olivia was going to shoot him, Crown fumbled for the MAC-10 but Olivia got her rounds off first hitting Crown twice in the chest, killing him instantly. She then aimed for the ceiling and the automatic fire suppression sprinkler. She hit it with her second round, causing water to spray from hundreds of similar structures throughout the car park. She snatched up her radio.

"Walter! He's released them! I hope you know what you're doing!" Then she ran for the exit, SWAT team, Peter and Broyles trailing in her wake.

Walter and Astrid were moving through the other end of the Car Park, both dressed in matching boots and gloves. Both were getting drenched. Astrid carried a map and flashlight and Walter carried the axe.

"The nearest conduit should be just past the next bend Walter." Walter grunted. His eyes were alive with excitement and wonder. They skidded through ankle deep water until they turned the corner and saw the vast boiling mass of water, concrete and nanites, which had already eaten through twenty feet of concrete and two of the support columns.

"My God, isn't that magnificent!" Walter breathed. Astrid looked terror-stricken.

"Not really my choice of words Walter." She moved the torch beam over the wall and found the plastic housing for the main power cable. "Here it is." She passed the torch and map to Walter and took the Axe. She swung it furiously, severing the plastic and cable, sparks flying everywhere.

Walter dragged the cable from its housing. The building was starting to creak and groan and the nanites showed no signs of slowing down.

"Whatever you're going to do, Walter, do it now!" He grinned at Astrid.

"Here we go!" He stuck the power cable into the water and instantly they were both thrown off their feet. The Cable jolted loose from Walter's gloved hand and came to rest in the water, the massive power surge shorting out every fuse in the building and tripping the emergency power out trigger. Astrid picked herself up out of the water painfully.

"Dammit Walter, a little warning next time!" Walter was laughing.

"Wasn't that marvellous? Nothing like a few volts to get the blood pumping." His hair was stood on end. Astrid tried not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"Did it work?" They walked over to where the nanites had been eating away at the concrete. The reaction had stopped.

"It appears so, my dear." Peter and Olivia appeared behind them. Peter was angry.

"For Crying out Loud Walter, you could have killed Astrid and yourself!"

"Nonsense, Son. We were perfectly protected. When you've got to turn machines off, blowing their fuse is the quickest way of doing it!" They turned to walk out of the car park.

"By the way, Walter." Peter began. "Your hair looks ridiculous."

"Really?" Walter replied. "I think it looks like Agent Farnsworth's now, I think it's rather fetching."

Once they were outside, Olivia rang the San Francisco field office of the FBI, warning them of the possibility of a device in the car park of the offices of Rigsby-Halliwell. As she got off the phone, Nina Sharp walked up to her.

"Thank you Agent Dunham. It seems I'm in your debt."

"Nina, why did you fire Brandon Crown?" Nina regarded Olivia carefully.

"We thought he might be selling commercial information."

"About nanite technology?"

"Yes." Nina's gaze didn't waver. Olivia spoke quietly.

"We had a conversation in there. He claims you are weaponising these nanites." The accusation hung in the air. Nina laughed.

"That is certainly not the case." Olivia held Nina's eyes for a second.

"OK." Nina coughed and looked away.

"Well, thank you again, Agent Dunham." As she was walking away, Olivia watched her take every step.

**APARTMENT OF PETER AND WALTER BISHOP, BOSTON**

Peter put the DVD down in front of Walter and sat down.

"What's this?" Peter smiled.

"This, Walter, is Dastardly and Muttley. Three hours worth. I figured you had trashed the wacky races cars, you could start on the Dastardly and Muttley biplanes."

"Excellent!"

"Astrid will be over in a little bit. I'm going out." Walter looked perturbed.

"Why? Where are you going?"

"Olivia and I are going out to dinner." Walter's eyes lit up.

"A date?" Peter smiled.

"Yes. A date. Last time we tried this, it didn't end so well. Remember." Walter looked at the floor, the upset clear in his eyes.

"I remember." Peter placed a hand on his shoulder.

"It's fine. I'm not going anywhere. You might be crazy, Dad, but you're never boring." Walter looked up.

"Thank you Son." The light came back into his eyes. "I have something for you!" He leapt to his feet and danced out of the room. Peter laughed. He returned carrying a brown paper bag.

"Oh my God Walter, please tell me those aren't condoms, because I don't have enough money for that kind of therapy."

"Of course not son. If you're going to Sorrento's, could you bring me back some of their Linguini. It's quite delicious!"

**SORRENTO'S RESTAURANT, BOSTON**

"So what's the brown bag for?" Olivia was sat opposite Peter. She was wearing a dark blue off-the shoulder dress. Her hair was down and she looked radiant. It was all Peter could do not to just stare at her.

"Can you believe it? Walter wanted takeout." Olivia laughed.

"That's a relief, I thought he might have given you condoms." Peter rolled his eyes for comic effect.

"Yeah, the thought had crossed my mind too." He took a sip of wine. "So did they find the device at Rigsby-Halliwell?" Olivia fixed Peter with a mock stern stare.

"I thought we agreed not to talk about work." She smiled. "Yes they did. It was on a timer. They got to it with six minutes to spare." She looked off into the distance.

"Hey, Liv. You OK?" She looked at him with sad eyes.

"He was trying to stop them being weaponised."

"He killed ten people, Liv. And would have killed thousands had you not stopped him." She sighed.

"I know, there was just something a bit noble about it. He had no intention of doing anything but dying under the rubble." She looked sad.

"Hey. Once this stuff is out in the open, you can't put the genie back in the bottle. If it hadn't been Crown, it would have been someone else. A guilty conscience doesn't justify mass murder." He reached over and took her hand. "Today was a good day."

She smiled at him, a warm, radiant smile. He always knew what to say, how to get the right perspective. How to make a job that some days seemed terrifying or heart-wrenching into something she didn't just want to do, but had to do.

"How come you know exactly what to say?"

"I don't, believe me." She looked confused. "Liv, if I had all the answers, tonight would have happened a long time ago." Olivia cocked her head slightly, mischievous grin on her face.

"So how long have you felt this way?" He considered his answer for a bit.

"Well obviously I had to get past the blackmailing, straight-laced G-woman thing first." Olivia laughed in mock outrage.

"Straight-laced!" Peter shrugged, smiling. "You know I have my gun on me, don't you!" He looked at her.

"I guess when I saw how you were able to see past what Walter and Bell did to you and still see that there was some decency in him." He took a sip of wine. "I don't know anyone else who would have been able to do that. I guess that's when I knew." She looked into his eyes.

"I knew when you went to see Nina Sharp to get information on those illegal drug trials. I knew then that you would have my back, no matter what." She paused, not knowing whether to carry on. "I sleep with the light on now." Peter looked at her, not really knowing what to say. "When I was in the other side, I was kept in a dark cell, 18, 20 hours a day." Peter gripped her hand.

"Liv, you don't have to…." She smiled at him.

"I know. I guess you should know."

Much later, in Olivia's apartment, she lay under the covers of her bed, staring at the lamp on the bedside table, shining its light across the wall and throwing patterns onto the ceiling. There was too much darkness in the world, too many things that crawled and multiplied in the shadows. Too many bad memories. But there was also light, and she smiled as she thought of her own personal firebrand, the one who kept the monsters away from her. She nestled back into his arms as Peter eased his arm over her shoulder.

"You OK Liv?" he asked quietly.

"I am now" she replied, before leaning over and switching off the lamp.


End file.
